


What You Are in the Dark

by Gia467



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood and Violence, Falling In Love, Family Dynamics, Gore, Loneliness, M/M, Musician! Johnny Lawrence, Original Character(s), Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-08-09 16:18:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16453223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gia467/pseuds/Gia467
Summary: It's the summer of '88. After a failed attempt at college, Johnny Lawrence is once again back at home with his mother and stepfather in Encino. Without much to do and with no personal direction, he spends his time playing bass for a garage band that's struggling to get noticed. When Sid offers to send Johnny to Italy for the summer, the band doesn't refuse a chance to get publicity with a brand new crowd.But a foreign country can get awfully lonely when you don't know the language or the locals.Soon enough someone catches Johnny's eye. He's alluring, pretty, and only the tiniest bit moody. Soon enough Johnny's smitten, but there's something different about this one.*Is told in Italian and English dialect





	1. Catarsi

**Author's Note:**

> Formerly titled: All The Animals Come Out At Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peek into Johnny's home life.

Soundtrack: [Pretenders - Back on the Chain Gang ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=radFwHzD-PM)

  
Catarsi  
  


 

 _"I found a picture of you, oh oh-oh! What hijacked my world that night?_ _To a place in the past, We've been cast out of…"_  
  
Laura sits on her back steps watching her son as he sways slightly on his feet playing out slow notes on his bass, distinct and heavy sounds even through the lead's guitar playing. His hair, light and sun-bleached even further these days, is just barely touching his eyelashes as he moves; it's grown so long lately, out of the soft layering it once was, that it touches the back of his neck in little flippant waves. She really ought to sit him down to cut it.  
  
_"Now we're back in the fight, we're back on the train, yeah,_ _oh-h, back on the chain gang!"_  
  
Flashing her a smile, he holds her gaze awhile longer while the chorus is sung, only turning his attention back to the lead guitarist once the solo starts.

They'd been doing this for years, upwards of four on and off, practicing in Johnny's garage in lieu of a club or bar that would host them. First it had been a hobby, formed in high school as something to do for the fun of it but eventually they found themselves getting restless playing only for fun, never getting a chance to play for a real crowd. Laura, their parents, and friends had always been a nice audience but the entire band was starting to get antsy to get out of Encino and onto bigger things than just backyard gigs and amateur nights.  
  
She's startled by a car horn, flinching a bit at the sudden noise. The band's music abruptly trailing off when the drummer had stops keeping pace, evidently distracted by the yelling coming from Johnny's stepfather.  
  
"Christ Laura, they can't practice anywhere else? I don't need the whole neighborhood on my ass because they can't get an actual deal to play in a real venue."  
  
Johnny scowls, trying not to let his mouth get his mother into more trouble.  
  
"They're rehearsing Sid, they've gotta practice somewhere."  
  
"Yeah, _somewhere_ , not here. Enough is enough, I don't need this when I come home. One of us-" He shoots a quick and demeaning look at the blonde boy a few meters from him, "-has a job they have to go to every day. God knows he hasn't lifted a finger since he moved back here."  
  
Laura's shoulders sag and Johnny's mood visibly sinks along with his bandmates, all in collective awkwardness at the familial conflict that had become the norm these past few months. Sid was always a complaint-laden buzzkill, but now it was escalating to the point where they'd gotten a little fed up. They needed to practice in peace without interruption or interrogation on their life choices.  
  
"C'mon guys, let's pack it in," Johnny relents, slipping the strap of his bass over his head. "Not like we have a choice anyway." He glares up at his stepfather as he shoves past him, purposely bumping Johnny's shoulder on his way into the house, and Laura has to bite her tongue with the effort to not say anything to him. It never did much good anyway.

 

-ζ-

Johnny taps his foot under the booth, Italian pop music faintly heard under all the chatter around the diner while he sat, bored and a little vexed. It had been years and they'd been stagnant; no promising exposure and no real, semi-permanent gigs. They weren't regulars at any clubs, only a few gigs at bars and small parts in private shows. This summer was supposed to be an opportunity now that David was back from college and they had a guitar player again. With summer rolling around most of them were now in one place, although Johnny had never really left to begin with, not for long anyway. He'd only been in college two years for business which not nearly long enough to complete his degree but long enough to waste time and realize that business was something he wasn't cut out for in the first place. Now he was just bored, being in town sucked, straight up. A year back in his little Cali suburb was enough to drive him up the wall. He needed to move on, financial repercussions be damned.  
  
The three of them are chatting idly, about the band and what to do about their situation now that practicing at his stepdad's place was out of the picture. Johnny's only half listening and still wrapped up in his thoughts. A drink placed in front of his face brings him back to, his eyes looking up from the table.  
  
The three of them sit in a booth, currently occupied playing a game of tic-tac-toe on the restaurant's brown paper table cover, until David blows his straw at a passing waitress. "Hey! When does your shift end?" He's smiling, laughing bemusedly at her beeline past their table.  
  
"What? No hello?" He's more than entertained but she sure as hell isn't, and he waves a dismissive hand in her direction, his advances effectively rebuffed. "Fine, be that way."  
  
Johnny watches the exchange and barely suppresses a grimace. "You're unbelievable."  
  
"Oh c'mon, I'm kidding around. Don't take your family shit out on me." For a second David looks past his Johnny's head, gaze following a clear line. "Hey, Jan."  
  
She practically flops down in the booth.  
  
"The hell's wrong with you?"  
  
"I swear I must've been Jack the Ripper in a past life."  
  
He looks amused, "That bad huh?"  
  
"You know that wedding gig we had auditioned for? I went by the place today, you know, just to see how it was going. Well, surprise surprise, they've decided to hire a DJ instead, because you know real, live music is so out these days. They said they didn't wanna take any risks with an amateur band." She air quotes around 'risks'.  
  
"Oh you've got to be kidding me. What _risks?_ They did hear us play, right?"  
  
Johnny rolls his eyes. "Go figure, California yuppies are a hard-to-please bunch."  
  
Jimmy, rather quiet this entire time, is noticeably miffed. "So what, I'm destined to play in a garage band my whole life?"  
  
She shrugs, "Looks like it if the universe has any say in it. Oh, may I?" She gestures to Johnny's iced tea, smiling as he slides it over to her. "Thanks, being rejected makes me thirsty."  
  
Johnny sighs, pouting as he rests his jaw in a closed fist. "This is shit, you guys."

 

-ζ-

Johnny curled up on the side of the couch content with his after-dinner milk and cookies. The stress of the day had left him, leaving him calm enough to not directly retreat to his bedroom after dinner, instead opting to watch some late night TV. He barely registered the presence on the doorway, lingering, looking. He turns his head and almost immediately turns back.  
  
His chuckling grates on his nerves like sandpaper. "Not even gonna acknowledge me, huh?"  
  
He barely suppresses an eye roll. "Yes, Sid?"  
  
"Awfully touchy today."  
  
Johnny is having serious trouble not just outright punching him in the face and leaving him to tend to a broken nose all month long. "Your clever wit must be lost on me." The sarcasm is heavy in his voice, not bothering to look up from the television.  
  
Sid whistles lowly. "My my, you still have such an attitude for someone who's twenty-two and still living off their parent's money. The only thing you do around here is make noise all day long." The last past is muttered but still loud enough that he knows Johnny can hear him.  
  
"I'm 21 actually, not that it matters to you." He turns to him now. "If all you came to do was kick me outta the living room then fine, here," He gets up, intending to head up to his room, his half-finished cookies and milk abandoned on the coffee table. "Have it." He goes to move past him but as usual he's in the way, blocking Johnny's route of escape with an arm level to his face, effectively impeding his hasty getaway.  
  
"No no, I've got something to give you, if you'd wait a minute." He pulls out an envelope from his pocket, holding it out to him and Johnny hesitantly takes it from him. "This is my compromise to last week's little discussion… as per your mother's suggestion of course."  
  
Johnny's eyes scan the slips of paper inside. It's plane tickets to Naples, Italy. Departure date a little over a week from today. He's as confused as he is excited. Having never been out of the country much, he's nearly ecstatic at the opportunity to go somewhere new. However the circumstances are suspicious if anything and he wonders if Sid intends to ship him off into some kind of trap.  
  
"I don't get it. What are you doing, selling me?"  
  
That makes Sid laugh, and he shakes his head. "Not to my knowledge. As much as I love your company around here, I'd appreciate a leave of absence. Lucky for you your mother so kindly insisted that those friends of yours come along."  
  
For a moment Johnny is at a loss for words, and Sid continues his spiel. "I figured a few months away ought to be sufficient for both of us. Besides, I don't think you'd be one to fetch a high price anyway." Johnny lets his snide comments slip right on by, the anger of a few minutes ago gone in an instant.  
"You're sending me on a trip?"  
  
Sid simultaneously looks both smug and almost as incredulous as Johnny does in those few moments. "As I said, your mother has suggested to me that you could use a little vacation. Now, those are the tickets for all of you there but your friends are gonna have to arrange their own finances, I ain't paying their way too, bad enough I'm paying for you to take this little trip out of the country. Your mother has been kind enough to arrange this so I suggest you thank her."  
  
As if on cue, Laura appears from the foyer. "Are you excited, Johnny?" She's smiling brightly, appearing to have heard almost none of their recent exchange.  
  
"Uh, yeah I am, but… I just don't understand, how do you know everyone's gonna want to come anyway?"  
  
She smiles. "You think anyone is going to refuse a trip to Italy for the summer? Besides I've planned it out already, everything is all set up so don't you go worrying about anything." She comes closer to him, nudging past Sid and resting her hands on Johnny's shoulders. "I'm just worried being stuck in town has been kinda hard on you lately. I thought this might be nice to get away for awhile."  
  
Beside her, Sid scoffs in an obvious display of disagreement and Johnny's head turns quickly towards him, frowning.  
  
Laura reaches out, fingertips gently on his jaw and turning his head so his eyes are focused on her again. "Think of this as an opportunity to get some exposure for yourselves… and while you're there, you can enjoy the country and have some fun. I promise I'm not trying to get rid of you." She affectionately pats his head, fine blonde hair easily messed under her fingers. "I'll be missing you after a day." Her smile has a calming effect on him, his body losing it's visible tenseness once he notices that Sid is no longer behind them.  
  
He's a little speechless, overcome by gratitude. He knows this was all her idea, finally making sense of why she'd suddenly been making multiple phone calls during the day.  
  
"I don't know what to say."  
  
"It's okay, all I ask is that you call me while you're there. Even if it's just to say hi, you can always call me."  
  
Johnny decides that he could concern himself over his lacking proficiency in Italian later, but right now is still wrapped up in the idea that he is going to be spending an entire summer in the south of Europe. She kisses his forehead, seeing him effectively engrossed by the tickets. Turning, she goes to head up the stairs and off to bed but her son's voice stops her for a moment.  
  
"Mom?" He looks almost in tears.  
  
"Yes, Johnny?"  
  
"I- thank you... I really appreciate this."

 

-ζ-

 _Tell me, what is worse? The acceptance of a bad situation or apathy towards it getting better? Is there a difference at this point?_  
  
As always, her routine is the same: First, make the dinner, then set the table, then eat the dinner while attempting to mediate the conflict between her son and her husband. This time, like many times before, that last part was failing miserably.  
  
"Don't think this little rendezvous is some kind of absolution for any responsibility around here."  
  
Johnny huffs. "I know."  
  
"Just reminding you."  
  
"Yeah I heard you, every day this week." Johnny's avoiding looking at anything but his plate, mumbling angrily but loud enough that he is sure to be heard.  
  
Sid, on the other hand, keeps up a steady barrage of comments just under his breath, worming his way under Johnny's skin, although for his mother's sake, Johnny usually refrains from saying much of anything.  
  
"Getting a backbone are we? You usually run up to your room by now and keep the rest of us up with that trash you play constantly."  
  
Johnny drops his fork and Laura's defenses raise, shoulders getting stiff. "Sid, we told them they could practice here, what do you want from him? He's not doing anything wrong, so please, just leave him alone." Johnny's eyes shift from her to Sid, wary.  
  
"Stop sticking up for him! For god's sake he failed out of college, he's hardly worth the effort."  
  
It hurt to hear that and there was no denying it, but Johnny had far passed the point of crying at the dinner table. He stays quiet, lamenting the fact that he's caused another fight, more added stress to his mother's day.  
  
"He did not fail out of college."  
  
"He sure as hell didn't come home with a diploma! He needs to make something of himself for once-"  
  
"Why do you bother bringing this up!"  
  
"Why the hell do you always jump in for him? Surely he can speak for himself."  
  
Laura pinches the bridge of her nose. "Seriously, Sid."  
  
He speaks like he's mocking her again. "Seriously, what seriously?"  
  
"Just-"  
  
"Just _what?"_  
  
"Can we just, not have this tonight? Please, for once." She shakes her head, her annoyance clear. "We can argue about this about this later if it's so important to you."  
  
Johnny's eyes look up from his plate, up to his mother. When he was younger she didn't talk back as much, she had always tried to placate him or at least appease him even the slightest bit but it wasn't like that anymore. She'd insult him as much as he would to her and it depressed him somewhat. It was depressing to think that she'd resolved herself to be so unhappy that she had just given up trying altogether.  
  
He thinks to himself, why can't they just leave?  
  
Sid scoffs. "You're the one starting in on this bullshit, Laura! You start these things, you know that right?" Johnny flinches a little. He's used to these insults being directed at him but for whatever reason, could never get used to hearing him yell at her like that.  
  
"Yes Sid, I start these things, whatever you say. Let's just eat, please." She says, exasperation clear in her words that once again, the family dinner had become an exchange of insults.  
  
"Sure, Laura."  
  
The relative calm continues until after dinner, where the fight is resumed and Johnny quickly flees to his room, playing music so loud he can barely hear himself out loud. When he suddenly feels sick eh dashes to the bathroom and soon finds himself kneeling over the toilet, body attempting to rid itself what he'd just eaten less than a half hour before. He spits, coughing a little as he tries to calm himself down before his body decides to force another puking fit. He's always hated throwing up. He hates the acidic, bitter taste it leaves behind and the way it settles in-between his teeth. Breathing evening out, he leans against the wall, listening to the noise downstairs.  
  
Eventually the noise downstairs comes to a stop. He lifts his head up, pausing before he decides to open the door and drag himself out of the bathroom. In the kitchen Laura is left alone, tending to the after-dinner dishes. Lured downstairs by the quiet, Johnny descends the stairs and quietly steps into the kitchen, soft footsteps going unnoticed by Laura until she turns around and nearly collides with him.  
  
"Oh, Johnny." Her flat disposition does not go unnoticed. Johnny's guilt nags at him.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
"I'm fine, don't worry." They've nearly had this conversation every time they've fought. He'd always check on her, usually feeling bad for blocking it all out instead of trying to help. He knew that interfering rarely did anything useful outside of making sure he took his mother's share of the outburst and more often than not would leave him tending a bloody nose. "You know him, he's gotta have the last word."  
  
"I'm really sorry." She's confused and he just rambles. He wanted to be subtle about it but the words just came up without any filter. "For making you guys fight, I'm sorry."  
  
"Johnny, you didn't make us fight..."  
  
He whines, a low keening sound. "Yes, yes I did! I always do. I start it. I make everything worse."  
  
"Johnny you didn't do anything. Please, don't think you ever have anything to do with him being the way he is. He's just..." She wracks her brain for the right word, nothing that gives away how angry she is because that would only make it worse. "He's difficult, okay?"  
  
He frowns. "Sure."  
  
There are a few moments of tenseness, and Laura can sense that he wants to say more. "What?"  
  
"I just don't get it, why stay if he's like this? What good is any of this?"  
  
"I don't want to have this conversation right now-"  
  
He cuts her off. "I wanna know! Why?"  
  
"Be-cause! Because I decided that this was the best thing for both of us and that's it."  
  
"Whatever else we could have had without him would still be better than this." He gestures grandly to the wide expanse of the room.  
  
She tosses the dishtowel behind her, clearly skeptical of her son's snap judgement.

"Johnny, we could never afford all the opportunities we've had in the past without his help. You know that, right?"  
  
"Why does that matter?"  
  
His naivety would be almost endearing if he weren't so stubborn about it. "It matters because then you'd have no karate, no music lessons, no nothing because there is no way we'd be able to afford any of that. You're going to tell me that you'd be fine with not having all these things, ever?  
  
"Yes."  
  
She's not buying it and she knows he's just saying this to say it; like mother like son, she's as persistent as he is. "We couldn't even afford to send you to decent school without you having thousands in debt! You're telling me you'd be one hundred percent fine with all of this?"  
  
_"Yes!"_  
  
She frowns. She knows he's not arguing for his own dignity. Much like her own motivations for this arrangement, it's a question to how much he'd be willing to sacrifice for her. At first it wasn't a sacrifice as much as it was a smart financial decision for both of them, but after years of unhappy marriage it had become little more than something that was strictly for his benefit.

She wasn't about to give it up so willingly. She wasn't one of those battered wives who got smacked around by her husband if she didn't cook dinner right. She could take a little verbal jousting if it meant that Johnny could at least get himself a decent start at a good life and a good career. Then, and only then, would she consider leaving and just starting her life again. She was 41; she was hardly past getting married again.  
  
She quickly blinks out of her thoughts, bringing her attention back to her expectant son. "Look, I didn't plan on him being like this all the time. It is what it is." Her expression mimics a teenage girl who is trying to explain away a failing grade. It's not a vehement defense of the relationship, it's barely a defense of anything.  
  
"Money isn't everything, mom." The aggression has left his voice entirely, now just sounding tired.

"Yes, Johnny _I know,_ but it's a lot harder living without it then you think. You're lucky you don't know what that's like… I'm done talking about this."  
  
She turns away from him and back to her dishes, their conversation clearly over. Her abrupt finality leaves Johnny noticeably anxious and he quickly retreats to his room, footsteps purposefully heavier than normal. She turns back for a moment watching him go up the stairs, suppressing the urge to call him back down right away. She'd have to sort this one out later.  
  
   

-ζ-

Laura walks down the hall to her son's room, door ajar and no music on for once. She knocks quietly on the frame and he looks up at her.  
  
"Hi..."  
  
"Hi." He's quiet.  
  
"Can I come in?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
She enters, stepping over clothes strewn on the floor and sitting down on the edge of his bed. She lets her eyes linger over his bedroom floor, packed bags sitting in the corner and an open book on his nightstand and whole closet in disarray, probably from changing his mind a million times on which clothes to pack.  
  
"I didn't mean to be rude to you, I just wanted you to understand that whatever is between me and him, it's not something you need to be worried about. You don't make us fight, _he_ makes us fight."  
  
He sighs, "I just want you to be happy."  
  
"Johnny I am happy."  
  
" _Are_ you?"  
  
"Yes, I am. I've got you here with me to help when he's being like this. I know it's been bad right now but he's not like this all the time, you know that. " She places a hand over his, trying to sooth away the tension. "We're not trapped here you know."  
  
"I know, it's just..."  
  
Her hand went to his head, his forming statement trailing off. "You don't need to stress yourself out over this, okay? I'm perfectly fine. I just want to make sure you have all you need to get where you want to be. I know money isn't everything and please, please don't think that's all I'm focusing on here but I just want you to be able to have things I couldn't give you on my own, you understand what I'm saying?"  
  
There is a prominent rise and fall from his chest. "Yeah, I understand." He looks sad now and she realizes her words may have been taken the wrong way.  
  
"You don't still feel like this is your fault, do you? I didn't mean it that way."  
  
He's gnawing on his lower lip. "You shouldn't have to be stuck in a shitty marriage just to make sure I'll never have to worry about anything. I want you to be happy too."  
  
For once Laura doesn't know what to say to that. It's been said a million times before. It was something she always denied when it came up but she'd look very stupid trying to deny it now. It was a shitty, dead-end marriage most days. There were some good days, some very good days that gave her at least a bit of normality for the time being, but those moments were outnumbered by nights like this. She pauses, mulling over the proposition she was about to make to him. An explanation seemed appropriate now after years of this same conversation that always ended the same way.  
  
"If you really did want us to leave I would. If you truly wanted to just... leave and never come back, I wouldn't put up a fight."  
  
Laura's taken aback by the look in his eyes and for a while there's a momentary silence while Johnny digests her words.  
  
"Really?" He says, and there's the slightest downward inflection in his voice that makes her think he doesn't believe her, but she nods, watching as the corners of his mouth turns up, the smallest trace of a smile on his face.  
  
"If you don't mind, may I get this in writing?"  
  
She feigns deep thought, hand going to her mouth. "I suppose I could make that happen,  but I don't do this for just anyone, you know." His smile broadens and she eases up knowing that they won't be parting tomorrow on bad terms. "Only for my favorite people," She squeezes his hand. It was a whole summer away from him, she wanted him to enjoy what would be his late night at home for a few months. Tension successfully gone, she changes the subject.  
  
"Are you excited about tomorrow?" She tries to be peppy about the whole thing, in an effort to get him happy again. He was going on a nice trip, after all.  
  
Johnny returns his mother's smile, albeit a bit hesitantly. "Yeah, I think I've packed everything. I just hope I'm not forgetting anything important."  
  
"That bag looks big enough to me. Did you want to go over what you packed, just in case you missed anything?" She didn't doubt him to mess up something as simple as packing a bag, but he could've glossed over something subtle. She figures with all the excitement that he might have missed something, but he shakes his head.  
  
"No it's alright, I think I've got everything. I can always just buy something when I need it."  
  
She examines his face, catching onto the distracted mood hanging over him. "Sweetie, is everything alright?"  
  
He shrugs. "I guess I'm just a little worried about being somewhere new."  
  
She tries to smile reassuringly, "You shouldn't worry. It's the four of you there together, I doubt you'll have any trouble meeting new people. It's not like you're there by yourself or anything."  
  
Another shrug.  
  
"Do you remember when you went off to college, and you were all nervous like you were right now?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Well, that was new too but you made friends, you met people you liked, and you did very well while you were there." She made sure to emphasize that point a little. Not graduating from college was a sore spot for him. "You know I wouldn't worry too much about the language barrier. You've got that book I gave you at least, it'll be okay." She smiles sheepishly, nudging him. "You know there's a section in there that gives you a bunch of useful stuff to say, and it even tells you how to flirt with cute girls. I bet you'll never want to leave once they get a look at you. I'm guessing they don't see many blonde, blue-eyed boys over there."  
  
Despite her efforts, Laura's attempts to alleviate his worries don't have much of an effect. "It's different this time."  
  
"How so?"  
  
"It's just... you won't be there this time and I'll be gone for the whole summer. I mean, you won't just be a three hour drive away this time. I won't be able to just come and see you anymore, not even if I needed to. I'll be far away from here, from you. I'm gonna be so far away."  
  
This time her smiles wavers a little with her sympathy. The realization that even after all this time he still might feel homesick even if he's not a little kid anymore. She never thought about why he had called her so much during his first year off at school. She had always guessed that maybe it was him checking up on her just to make sure she was doing okay, but it never really occurred to her that it may have been an excuse just to hear her voice.  
  
He's not looking at her anymore and instead eyeing no place in particular, perhaps uncomfortable by the admission. "I don't know…" he trails off awkwardly.  
  
She quickly pulls him into a tight hug and rubbing the spot between his shoulder blades, exactly how she's always done when he's upset at something, and after a few moments she feels him relax. When she pulls away, she's unclasping the chain from around her neck and placing it around his.  
  
"What are you- ?"  
  
"I want you to have this, so you can have a little reminder of home while you're there." Johnny's fingers trace the line down his neck until he can feel the little gold crucifix that hangs in the middle of the chain. "So you can always have a little piece of me, wherever you to go." He looks at her again, smiling broadly this time. "I want you to keep it, okay? Promise me you'll never take it off until you come home."  
  
"I promise." His head is bowed, eyes on the necklace again as he holds the cross between his fingers.  
  
She sits with him a while more until his nervousness started to dissipate. He lays back down under his bed covers and Laura gets up, making her way to the door to let her son sleep. Before she even reaches the hall he's calling out to her again, inspired by a memory.  
  
"Hey mom," She pauses in the open doorway. "Remember when I was little, you used to read to me until I fell asleep?"  
  
He doesn't even need to voice his question. Grabbing a book off his shelf she approaches his bedside where he lay up to his chest in blankets, and sits down.


	2. Velo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daniel confronts a man he believes to be involved with teenage boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation at the bottom. Tl;dr: man being creepy.

  “I never wanted to kill, I am not naturally evil

Such things I do

Just to make myself more attractive to you

Have I failed?”

 _Morrissey -_ _The Last of The Famous International Playboys_

 

Velo

 

It's dark.

The few streetlights much too sparse to provide adequate light and everything is washed in a dull, shadowy air. His strides are fluid, almost unnaturally smooth and purposefully in unison with the man across the road.

It takes him a while before he notices.

The man turns his head, becoming vaguely aware that he's not alone, that somewhere there's got to be another person around. He spots him a little ways away across the street, being careful to match his steps. He's curious now, and tests his assertion. He lets his feet drag, reducing his pace. The figure's footsteps are softer, slower. He stops suddenly. The figure pauses. He squints, eyes failing him with any adequate light.

"Hello?"

...

"Hey!"

No response. Maybe he doesn't understand. 

"Posso aiutarla?" _  
_

...

"Le ho chiesto, posso aiutarla?" He can't see his face but he guesses it's a boy, slight frame visible even through the heavy shadows. His eyes scan over the open road. Nobody's around and the boy has not continued walking. He's still now, appearing to face him.

He licks his lips, puzzlement clear on his face as he continues walking, well aware of the figure keeping pace the whole way down the street until his front door. He stops abruptly, and to his surprise there is next to no visible delay in the stranger's reaction, as if someone had held up a reflective glass. He would've considered this a distinct possibility if it weren't for the shadow. He pauses by his door, key halfway in the lock when soft footsteps alert him to turn around again. It is a boy, albeit heavily androgynous if not for the clothes. Round, dark eyes in a dark tanned face, masculine in its shape with more sharp edges than soft, although his lips were more like a girl's, like a woman's. It was a good combination, and if he were here for the same reason as all the others, he certainly wasn't going to hesitate.

He slides the key sideways in the lock and opens the door. "Vuoi entrare?"

Daniel steps closer, now on his front step and in fully visible under his porch light.

The lines around the man's eyes deepen with his smile, handsomeness apparent. Daniel can smell his cologne, worn heavy like so many men and he can even recognize the brand. By the heaviness in his voice Daniel figures that he must smoke, that surely the deep huskiness cannot be explained just by age. He wasn't that old, although certainly appeared to be significantly older than himself. He is openly leering at him but Daniel plays dumb. He knows exactly what this is; an invitation for all sorts of things he's seen through his windows, but unlike the man in front of him, he's not ignorant to the circumstances.

Without a word Daniel enters the house, the man barely moving from the doorway as he slides past him with an unavoidable contact to the man's torso. Daniel stands in the foyer, fingers trailing over dark wood trim on the walls that lead up to intricately carved patterns in the ceiling, a popular habit among the upper class. He stands there watching, as the man goes to a cabinet and pulls out a glass bottle of amaretto.

"You want some?" He forgets the little stalker doesn't understand a word and quickly corrects himself. "Ne vorresti qualcuno?"

He lingers for a moment before turning away and walking east towards the far end of the room and towards the large window. The man huffs in lighthearted confusion but nonetheless pours two highball glasses nearly to the rim, taking them over to the couch. He watches him for a moment, lingering by the open drapes before he reaches out shuts them in one quick motion. He smiles, calling out to him again.

"Ehi bellezza, vieni qui dai."

Quickly, Daniel turns around to him. He's a bit taken aback by overt the come-on but otherwise tries not to show it too much. It's easy to do such a thing when his eyes are so dark; pupils are telling of emotion and when you can't see them it's easier to hide the little things. He likes that about himself, his stare is neutral but never vacant, nothing is given away just by looking.

"Si accomodi." He pats the spot next to him, encouraging him to sit.

Slowly, Daniel approaches him slowly until he's by the couch but refuses to sit where he wants him, and instead folds his legs under himself and kneels on the prayer carpet by the far side of the table, earning him a perplexed chuckle from the man on the couch. With finesse, he slides the glass over to his end, stopping just short of the edge. His own glass is already finished off.

"Ti prego, bevi, amore mio." Daniel sniffs it but otherwise doesn't touch the glass. He looks him over again, almost admirably then, "Sei curioso come sei bella."

Daniel looks up again, his glare noticeable. "Scusi?"

"You speak! My god, for a moment I thought you were mute or something." He gestures to him, repeating himself again, "Può parlare!" He feigns shock, laughing at Daniel's irritation. He somewhat admires his stubbornness; the headstrong, reluctant ones were always his most enjoyable conquests. He takes another generous drink, "That's good then, it's much more fun when you're loud." He smirks, comforted by the fact that he can't understand a word, assuming the tight-lipped scowl that comes afterwards is due to the lack of understanding on the kid's part, probably assuming he's just mocking him again.

"Ti ho visto qui attorno prima… non capisco perché mi segui." He pours another glass, letting his eyes linger over the boy on the floor. There's a tension. He pauses and takes a drink, gesturing to Daniel's still full glass, "Aren't you going to drink that?"

Daniel lightly shakes his head.

He leans in close and Daniel reclines back in an effort to remain at arm's length. "Siete curiosi di quello che faccio?"

No answer.

"It's been you following me late at night, hasn't it?" He says, mumbling offhandedly to himself. "Of course. For a while there I was worried someone had a warrant out for me. You're a sneaky little thing."

Daniel perks up suddenly. "Perché dici questo?" _  
_

"Se hai fatto tutta questa strada, ci sarà un motivo, cosa vuoi?" He leans even closer still, invading the boy's personal space. "Tu voglia fare quello che quei fanno i ragazzi, hm?" His voice is low, bordering on intimate tone. "You interested?"

"No, grazie."

It's a firm decline but the man's smile remains as he slides himself over the length of the couch, "Ok, allora perché sei qui?" 

He's close enough now to reach out and touch his shoulder and Daniel flinches back. "No... smettila." His tone is slightly clipped but still the hand doesn't leave his shoulder, its grip tightening once Daniel tries to squirm away again.

"Perché mi irritate in questo modo? Andiamo, dovrai pur desiderare qualcosa." His smile is mocking, self-assured like he's done this a million times before and Daniel knows this to be true.

"Lo non..." Daniel shoots him an incredulous glare, "Senti– _ah!"_ He recoils, furiously shoving an intruding hand off his lap, frantically crawling away backwards from the couch. The man follows without hesitance, advancing towards him and Daniel quickly gets to his feet, backing away again.

He yells at him, naive demeanor dropped entirely. "Smettila! ... Stop!"

The man smiles, unfazed by his outburst or his English. "Stai ferma qui, tesoro... where are you going to go, you going to run away?" 

"Sei impazzito... oi sono un'adolescente." 

"Il tuo corpo è molto migliore di un adulto..." He takes slow, purposeful steps towards him, further excited by Daniel's vehement opposition. "Vieni qua," He holds his hand out, a finger curling up gesturing him to come closer. "Smettila di fare storie."

He has cornered him and Daniel stands pressed up against a wall in his living room, tensed and ready through a facade of submitting to orders. The man is so close that he'd be able to detect an absence of movement from Daniel's chest if he weren't so fully engrossed in something else at the moment. He's looming over him, a good few inches taller even with Daniel's shoes still on.

It's with immense self restraint that Daniel lets the man trace his jaw and his lips, opening his mouth slightly before a finger is roughly shoved inside and Daniel's tongue avoids anything more than necessary contact. Lulled into security the man loses his authoritative front, becoming as affable as when Daniel had followed him to his front door. Daniel's lips enclose around the finger in his mouth and the man smiles, impressed at his swift compliance.

"Good boy."

Daniel's eyes glare up at him, though the man mistakes the deep contempt for teenage lust and his smile broadens, feeling smug that he's worked him this far and remembering fondly on the previous times it's happened this way. The resistance they put up is almost as satisfying as when they finally give in. The man's finger runs along Daniel's teeth and for a second his eyebrows crease in concentration; something is wrong. Something wrong with the boy's teeth. He pulls his finger back from his mouth to inspect, the slightest upward pull on the corners of Daniel's lips as he obediently opens his mouth to reveal the oddity.

His confidence wavers, speaking distractedly under his breath. "What the fuck… what have you done here?"

His gaze is distant and focused intently on the glimpse of off-white pointed teeth, his hand frozen in midair in front of Daniel's face as his gaze shifts between his still-open mouth and the dark eyes that openly taunt him. He's caught off guard by a sudden squeezing sensation and looks down to see the boy's hand firmly gripping his wrist, fingers digging in uncomfortably.

Daniel's movements are quick. The man's eyes are wide and there's a sharp, surprised yelp that Daniel had expected to be louder, as if his brain hadn't caught up to the pain yet and his only reaction being to the fact that someone appeared to have their teeth in his arm. As Daniel bites down, hard enough to elicit a sharp grinding noise as the bone that runs alongside his arm cracks, and the man's mouth is agape in silent agony until he's finally screaming in gasping, wailing cries, cursing him out in complete shock as the pain finally catches up to him. He instinctively he tries to pull away but the Daniel's stronger than he looks, and there's no give even with all the blood. Daniel is looking directly up at his face, the whites of his eyes visible only to the bottom half.

The man panics, desperately trying to wrench his arm free from the pain and suddenly there's another sound; a wet, ripping sound as if someone had pulled a row of stitches from fabric. Daniel jerks backward, the flesh catching on both teeth as it pulls away from the muscle underneath, partially skinning the man's forearm up to his wrist and leaving the displaced skin to hang off the exposed tissue in a red, pulpy mess. A louder, horrified cry as the man backs up holding the mutilated appendage close to his chest, blood coming steadily through the gaps of his fingers. He's groaning lowly, backing up and tripping over his own feet before falling and hitting the floor.

Daniel's modest size appears much more intimidating as he stands over him with his bloodied mouth, slowly inching forwards, following the man's pathetic, backwards slide across the tile floor until his path is impeded by a kitchen cabinet. He leans up in a futile attempt to get away but before he can even get to his feet Daniel is crouching down in front of him, the man quietly sobbing.

He feigns concern, brows turning up in mocking sympathy as he leans in close, repeating the man's words back to him.

"Where are you going to do, run away?"

The man continues to gasp out, whining almost incessantly until Daniel finally nudges his head up and the man's keening cries are replaced by a hollow choking as he grows limp under Daniel's weight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> Can I help you?  
> Hey beautiful, come over here.  
> Please, drink my darling. You're as curious as you are beautiful.  
> I've seen you around here before… don't know why you've been following me. You curious about what I do?  
> (Daniel): Why do you say that?  
> You've come all this way, you must have a reason. What do you want? Do you want to do what those boys do?  
> (Daniel): No, thank you.  
> Okay, then why are you here?  
> (Daniel): Stop.  
> Why do you tease me so? Come on, you must want something.  
> (Daniel): I don’t… stop!  
> Stay put, sweetheart.  
> (Daniel): You’re insane, I’m a teenager!  
> Your body is far more desirable than any adult… come here and stop being difficult.


	3. Alba e Giorno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First meeting.

“The circle of an empty day is brutal and at night it tightens around your neck like a noose.”

\- Elena Ferrante, _The Days of Abandonment_

 

Alba e Giorno

 

"Holy fuck, finally!"

Luggage is tossed on the floor with a thud, uncaring of any potential disruption of sleep to downstairs neighbours. David flops on the couch, somewhat conflicted about whether he was tired enough to go to bed, or needed to walk for a while after sitting for practically thirteen hours straight.

"This city is a nightmare. Should've punched that cab driver in the mouth, fucking prick."

"He didn't understand you..." Jan attempts to hush him, being uncomfortably loud for how quiet the building is at this hour.

"Fucking driving around for an hour cause he can't follow basic directions!"

"Well, we're here now so just relax."

"What time is it?"

"Almost five."

"It's almost daylight!"

Jan nearly puts a hand to Jimmy's mouth. "Shush! My god Jimmy, people are sleeping."

David waves them off hurriedly. "I'm going to bed, I'm exhausted." Walking to the nearest bedroom he looks around at the luggage on the floor, apathetic to going to sleep in his clothes. "Goodnight..."

Johnny is on the couch, debating whether or not he could skip brushing his teeth until morning. He didn't feel like digging around for his toothbrush right now.

"I'm off." Jan's voice is quieter, "See you guys tomorrow, okay?"

It's just the two of them now and Johnny's blue eyes are slightly bloodshot from pure exhaustion, but he already knows that sleeping is going to be difficult in a strange bed, no matter how comfy. Jimmy somehow looks fine, rummaging cautiously through a chest in the living room hall.

"Hey," He turns his head quickly to look at Johnny, still on the couch and looking a little worse for wear. "You wanna play chess?"

"You're not tired at all? What'd you do, go snort blow in the bathroom?"

He laughs, "No! I'm just excited, aren't you? I've never been out of California before. Hell, I've barely been out of the north part of Los Angeles. I'm too excited to sleep."

"Well, the world is your oyster."

"Huh?" He isn't getting the meaning.

"It's just a phrase."

"Oh..." He smiles suddenly. "Come on, play chess with me."

Johnny rubs the bridge of his nose; he's physically tired but not mentally, which he knows will be the main impediment of getting a proper sleep tonight.

"Please? C'mon, you're still awake aren't you?"

Oh might as well, if it manages to finally put him to sleep somehow.

"I guess I am." He figures he would get the chance to doze off once Jimmy inevitably crashes in the next two hours.

 

-ζ-

It's late, again.

Walking became a habit, something to do when he couldn't sleep at night, which was a lot. He might've attempted to rationalize this with being nearly seven hours off his usual schedule, but insomnia was always a problem even back home, like his body had decided that sleep was the one luxury Johnny couldn't afford. He figured after two weeks here that he'd be used to it, but it didn't look like his body was operating on any kind of proper sleep-wake schedule anytime soon.

There's always convenience stores open late, which is enough of a good reason to quell the forming knot in his stomach with a cigarette or two. Smoking seemed like much more of a popular habit here than in California. Something that he hadn't noticed before, machines, vending machines to be particular, for just cigarettes. His mother had always hated smoking, especially the smell that hung around afterwards. She told Johnny if he ever started smoking she'd have to stop hugging him so much.

_What time is it?_

He checks his watch; it's late, but not quite early. At least a few hours until the sun would come up. Maybe then his body would decide to give him a break. They had an audition to go to tomorrow, which had now turned into today, even more of a reason to need some solid hours of sleep. This little trip wasn't shaping up all that well for him yet.

There were no English speakers and he felt even more awkward attempting to speak Italian. Avoiding conversation had become something of a habit down here, given that he couldn't string together enough complicated vowel sounds to pronounce anything correctly anyways, only knowing how to start a conversation with "Hello, my name is Johnny". In addition to his general incompetence, whatever useful phrases his mother had circled for him in that book were currently back in his room. He hopes that he doesn't somehow get lost and has to try and ask for directions back to the apartment. It was lonely and boring if not for all the pretty sights and luxurious food, he would consider this a bit of a lousy time.

Johnny's so lost in his pessimism that he doesn't notice the little figure watching him with curiosity from a pastel-coloured roof, eyes slowly following Johnny's path down the road and snickering quietly to themselves when they see him nearly trip over a prominent cobblestone in the road.

Slowly, he retraces his steps down narrow roads back to his apartment and is careful not to make too much noise as he unlocks the front door and steps quietly to this room.

He slumps down as gently as he can onto the bed, rolling himself into a bundle of sheets and duvet, exhaling deeply. It was still dark outside. Only two more hours till sunrise here. Back home his mother had already had her morning tea, probably curled up on the couch with a book or doing paperwork for Sid. Maybe she's cleaning the house or taking a walk outside.

Maybe she's waiting for his call and forgot that there's a six-hour difference between she and him. He decides that he ought to call her as soon as he wakes up.

 

-ζ-

Jimmy usually isn't nervous when performing, but he can't help but feel somewhat ignored as he plays for three people who hardly seem interested. He thought that the snotty, too-good-for-you impression that often came with professionals in the Los Angeles music scene, was at least somewhat isolated to California.

Maybe not.

He barely gets through one line of the chorus before someone cuts him off.

"Alright, thank you."

He trails off, confused. "But I've barely got through the first half... it gets better, I promise!"

The man waves him off. "Don't need it." He flips through his forms and Jimmy's optimistic mood deflates. "You're gonna open for the main act, so you need to get here early, got it? The show's on Thursday at 7pm, but you'll need to be here for 6 at the latest. You'll need the time to set up and organize... "

Their faces light up and Jimmy interrupts him after a second. "So wait, we got the gig?"

"Uh-huh..." The man nods slowly, looking at him like 'well, duh'.

He practically jumps. "Oh great, that's awesome!" He turns to Johnny and hi-fives him, the band now in collective joy.

"You guys are good, solid backbeat, good vocals. " He gestures to them, pen still in hand. "You know it's sorta rare to see all the members in a band sing. Usually there's just one or two... but I like that, it helps keeps the variety."

"Thank you." Jan peaks over her drum set. "We have original songs too... how many should we play?"

"The opening acts usually play around three, but it depends how long your songs are. Time limit for your set is gonna be about twenty minutes… and I can't stress this enough, please be on time, the people who are organizing this will not be impressed if you're late. If they like you, we can look into making you guys some arrangement to play as regulars there."

"You have our word."

Their excitement is visible, and they pack up their instruments with a little more pep than normal.

Once they're outside, Jimmy's excitement climbs to a ten. "We got it, can you believe it? He said we're good!"

David isn't nearly so enthusiastic. "Chill, man. Once we start getting regular deals then you can get excited. This is one step out of a million other steps."

"Regardless, we should celebrate." He gestures to the bar across the street. "Come on, one drink. All we've done for the past week and a half is rehearse and audition. We're supposed to be on a trip, remember?"

"Uh-huh."

Jan isn't too keen, however. "Uh, not for me thanks. I'm gonna go back to the house and read a little. You know, I'm really surprised more people don't speak English over here. It wasn't like this in Norway, nearly everyone spoke English."

David shrugs, lighting up a cigarette. "Guess these people don't like to. Or maybe they don't have a use for it. The closest I've seen to English anything is American magazines."

Johnny eyes the cigarette in his hand. He's tempted to ask him for one. "We're lucky that guy did, we'd be screwed then."

"I don't think he's from here. He doesn't really look it..."

"Any-way," Jimmy points to the bar again. "We going in or what?"

Johnny rests an arm on his shoulder, "We're going, don't worry." Jan is already gradually backing away from the three boys, and Johnny calls after her. "You know your way back okay?"

"Yeah don't worry about me. I'll see you guys later, alright? Please, don't get too drunk."

"It's barely dinner, what do we look like to you?" Johnny tries to smile reassuringly, while she returns it with some skepticism.

"Yeah well, just don't get lost and expect me to look for you."

"Yeah, yeah."

The boys wave her off and head into the bar, intent on celebrating the promising opportunity. They seat themselves at a booth while Jimmy goes and fetches everyone's usual order.

Upon sitting down, he's immediately given side-eye from David, who is looking at his glass as if it contains a live octopus rather than the amber liquid up to its rim. "The hell are you drinking?"

"What? What's wrong with it?"

"Where do I start? You might as well join those women sittin' up at the bar over there. What's with the cherry?"

"Why don't you let me enjoy my nice, not-disgusting drink while you sip on that pine needle smelling shit you like so much." He gestures to the glass cupped in Johnny's hand. "And what about his drink?"

"It's a negroni... at least his isn't in a martini glass. You're not gonna pick up any girls drinking something like that."

"Why not?"

"They're either gonna think you're competition or their new best friend."

"Huh?"

Johnny pats him on the shoulder. "Ignore him, just drink whatever you like."

Jimmy isn't the least bit deterred, too busy enjoying the sweetness of it. Curiosity piqued by David's remark, he scans the bar for any girls that look their age. It's rather in vain, since dive bars don't tend to bring out much of the young and pretty crowd. The prettier women, almost always married women, only come in with their husbands. You could try the ones who come alone and maybe one would be for it, but the reward is not worth the risk if she decides to run her mouth for some entertainment and you end up with a broken nose. The single women tended to be older, and come in with their friends in groups of three or five to drink and complain about work. None of these options are any use to them. Despite them not being there to pick up any girls in the first place, Jimmy is a bit disappointed in the lack of pretty faces. Maybe later they could go to the downtown, go find clubs or lounges that would suit those needs far better than a little hole in the wall pub would.

Johnny's eyes are scoping the floor too, only half listening while David talks about what songs they should play at the show.

"She thinks we should do a few covers of Italian songs, she thinks it'll help our popularity down here..."

Resting his chin on his hand, he attempts to sound engaged. "Oh yeah?"

"I don't know if it'll help or anything, but she said she'd do most of the vocals if we didn't want to."

Jimmy and David argue back and forth. "...I guess so, but the guy said American music was pretty big here too, with people our age at least-"

"Well no shit. I mean if you're good, you're good. We just gotta make sure we make the right decisions is all..."

Johnny's eyes are drawn to someone sitting alone, or at least they appeared to be alone. They've been without anyone for the past twenty minutes, not that Johnny had been looking that long or anything.

Definitely not.

He risks looking at them for longer than a simple once-over. It looks like a girl judging by the scarf over their head, although he can't see much of their clothes with the table in the way. He'd seen women wear those around here when the sun was particularly hot, and on some of the older women who were out in town. Still, it was uncommon enough to be particularly out of place here.

_Maybe she's religious._

He's aware of his actions and thinks to himself how stupid he must look to anyone who is paying attention to him staring at this girl like he's never seen a woman up close before. He wasn't trying to be creepy. What was she doing here alone? She hadn't touched her drink, either.

Jimmy notices his eyes have paused on a spot behind his head and he swivels around in his chair, trying to locate what was holding Johnny's attention so persistently.

"Whatcha looking at?" He's confused until he spots her, and after a moment he turns back around, a smile on his face. "You looking at her?" He asks, now amused at Johnny's nervous expression once David turns to look at the girl too, making no attempt at being discreet about it.

"No! Just... ugh, turn back around would you? Before she thinks we're staring at her." To Johnny's immense relief, the woman hadn't noticed them despite their talking, and eventfully they turned back around within a few moments of sizing her up.

Jimmy laughs. "But you were staring at her... I thought she'd look more like Ali." He adds.

"You think every girl I like looks like Ali!"

"Yeah well, get a different type. Not many blue-eyed blonde girls around here anyway."

David makes a face. "Honestly, I've seen much prettier. Hardly something to look twice at, don't you think?"

Johnny meets his eyes and glares. He knows that he's purposefully taunting him for looking but he honestly can't tell enough about her appearance from his limited view, and now he definitely needs another look at her.

Johnny lowers his eyes back to the table, trying to fight his urge to look back up right away to see if she'd taken notice to anything. Once Jimmy starts talking again he risks another glance and tilts his head to see past Jimmy's shoulder. She's in his line of sight again and he feels his face get hot as she stares right back at him, clearly been made aware of their exchange. After a few seconds of eye contact he ducks his head down, feeling embarrassed and hiding his eyes behind his bangs.

The girl's eyes are brown, not blue, and David is woefully mistaken.

"You know what," David puts down his glass, looking outside at the darkening sky. "You guys got me in the mood for a real party. Jan told me that these rich areas downtown get a lot of tourist business, that's where you'll find all the girls... the real girls." He tosses a glance to the bar where the women were sitting down. "Let's hit something up."

 

-ζ-

_Is this a good idea? Would a friend betray you?_

"Come on just take it, you look sad, don't be sad..."

Says some guy with glasses so thick they make his eyes look like they're through a magnifier. "C'mon just swallow it, you be in heaven! I don't lie to you I promise." His accent is so thick Johnny can barely understand him. The alcohol isn't helping.

He looks higher than a kite himself.

"You wanna have fun for once, Johnny?" David's like the devil on his shoulder, but Jimmy's nowhere in sight this time.

Jimmy's off getting drunk with some girls.

A little white pill is pushed into his awaiting mouth and he swallows it quickly, bitter taste heavy in on his tongue and worming its way to the back of his throat.

 

_O true apothecary,_

_Thy drugs are quick!_

 

_Are you drooling? It feels like it._

He wipes his mouth, probably a little more than necessary.

The lights are almost blinding, flashing like this in all their bright color. It's too dark and too bright all at once, and it's almost uncomfortably hot with everyone packed in here like this.

"Johnny!"

_Someone's speaking to you, idiot._

"Johnny!"

"ha-ha!"

"Having a good time, buddy?"

He's so out of it he just nods, smiling.

He looks to the walls along the winding back hallway, couples kissing, smooching, touching, everywhere. The guy with the magnifying glasses thinks the group of five, three girls, two guys, at the end of the hall are the most amazing thing he's ever seen. It's not a really free show, but it's certainly not hidden away anywhere. He's never seen so much tongue in kisses before.

"Where's Jimmy?" His voice sounds so out of place, almost like it's coming a few seconds after he speaks, like his voice is breaking a sound barrier.

"Don't worry about him, he's got a girl." David's arm is around his neck. "We ought to get you a girl, man."

Johnny doesn't even know what he's really agreeing to, but all seems well when you're pressed up against a wall kissing on a pretty girl with dark, curly hair and green eyes like...

_Oh baby, baby._

Until you need to be sick… but preferably not in her mouth.

"Excuse me, sorry… "

He barely makes it to a bathroom sink. He doesn't even know if this is the right bathroom but he assumes puking in a sink is preferable to the floor. He coughs, throat raw from the alcohol and unadulterated bile, only now realizing that he hasn't eaten anything in six hours.

In another sink, he turns on the tap, stuffing wadded up toilet paper in the drain to collect the pooling water until it fills enough to submerge his whole face.

It's a cold, welcome shock.

He gasps, taking in the dense air as the water drips from the front of his hair and down to his neck. The air inside is stifling hot now. He needs some outdoor air, some nice, cool air right now. He no longer feels that euphoric, dizzying trance that makes places like these so enjoyable. He gets out of there as fast as he can, which evidently in his drug-addled brain fog, feels like an hour just from the bathroom to the door.

\--

He's walked long enough that he forgets what street he's on. He's careful to watch his steps, the potholes in the roads are deep, cracks running up and down the sidewalk and small piles of trash laying on the roadside, some scattered around from nightly animals. He looks up to the sky. The apartments have laundry lines hung up above his head, hanging off the rusting balconies and pigeons lines up neatly on the roofs, cooing. There are some people out tonight, but the more he wanders into the back roads, the sounds of voices get quieter.

He's standing in the street, but is startled by a sudden noise close to where he stands. He looks up again, a few feet above him someone is on their balcony sitting on the little metal edge.

"Ti sei perso?"

They speak.

Even if he knew what it meant, his intoxicated state was making it hard to remember how to speak Italian anything. The only thing he could remember was the words 'English'.

"Parle inglese?" Daniel smiles a little at the misplaces pronunciation and the mismatched word for "speak". It was clear he wasn't from here. If his looks didn't give it away, his speech sure would.

"Yeah."

Johnny is relieved. "You... speak English?"

The figure frowns. "Do _you_ speak English?" he retorts.

"Yeah, of course I do."

The person looks him over, aware of the far-away look in his eyes. "Are you alright?"

"Yes... I feel tired."

"What are you doing here?"

"I walked here... I was at a dance." He's tripping over his words, he can tell. "I left..." He waves his hands around weakly. "Lights were giving me a headache."

"You're drunk?" It's not really a question as much as it is an accusation.

"No, not drunk, I don't know what this is. My friend gave me something. I've never felt like this before..."

"Oh." There's the tiniest hint of a smile on his face.

"Where am I?"

"Forcella," The figure looks him over, head to toe. "You really shouldn't be here you know."

Johnny looks around. This part of the city feels dirty with the run-down apartments, the piles of trash, and people eying him as he walked past, it's the very picture of seedy.

Still, Johnny can't help but feel like he's judging him sitting up on the balcony ledge like that. He feels the need to sit but he sure isn't about to ask if he can sit up there with him, so he slumps down on the pavement. The person looks about his age, or at least old enough to be done high school. He isn't as shy with whatever this is influencing his brain, and looks them over in an obvious manner, suddenly getting a feeling of déjà vu.

"Have I seen you before?"

"Maybe."

"Have you seen me before?"

"Yeah."

"At the bar today…?"

"Maybe."

Johnny's brain spits out a question before he has a chance to stop it. "Are you a boy or a girl?"

This time, they laugh.

"I'm a boy. Do I look like a girl?"

He has to squint. He sounded like a boy. The minimal light does him no favors.

"Uh, not really... I can't really see you... I thought you were a girl when I first saw you. I just... the scarf on your head..." He gestures around his own head.

"I'm sorry for staring at you… I thought you were really pretty." The alcohol has apparently loosened his tongue to an unfavorable degree.

He hangs his head slightly, dizziness getting a bit stronger when he keeps craning back his head to look up like that. There's a sound in front of him and when he looks back up the boy has jumped down from the balcony, now only a few feet away from him and getting closer. He wants to stand but he can't. He looks at his face instead.

He's small. "Can you see me now?"

"Yeah."

"Why are you sitting like that, in the street?"

"I can't stand up. I get dizzy when I drink a lot."

"Do you want to stand up?" He asks.

Johnny attempts it, tries to put his palm flat on the ground to push himself up but before he can do anything the boy's hand is around his arm and tugging him quickly to his feet.

"Oh-" He's surprised. Now standing upright he's a good few inches taller than him and the boy is tiny enough that Johnny was amazed he'd been able to pull his near-dead weight from the ground with just one arm. "Thanks..."

"Can you stand up on your own?"

Johnny looks down at his hand. "You cold or something?"

No answer. He looks at him closer now and he can recognize something in his face. "I have seen you before… at the bar, that was you, wasn't it?" His eyes are so dark that it's like the pupil is engulfing the entire iris. Johnny realizes how close they are and that the boy's grip hasn't left his wrist yet, his fingers creating goosebumps along Johnny's forearm. He _is_ cold. The air is warm but his skin feels like he's stuck his hand in snow.

"You still think I'm pretty?"

Johnny swallows, hesitant. "Uh, I… yes. I guess so." Johnny lets his arm slip from his grasp and covers the boy's hand with his, running his fingers over it, attempting to warm the skin. "Do you want my coat?"

Johnny can see the reflections of distant lights glinting in his oversized pupils, like he held a miniature replica of the city streets behind his eyes. The near-constant traffic and voices of the neighbourhood's inhabitants are a low hum, a faint buzz in the distance.

"Here..." On impulse Johnny closes the gap, hugging the other tightly to his body. The other is stiff but after a few seconds Johnny feels the boy's hands go to the backs of his shoulders, fingers abruptly digging into the skin so hard that Johnny winces a little, unsuccessfully trying to shrink back from the pain.

The boy's grip is almost unfathomably tight.

"You're polite, I like that..."

Johnny gasps slightly, caught off guard by how close his mouth was to his neck. His breathing speeds up a little. His head is spinning and he can't catch his breath fast enough to talk properly. There's something poking into his neck that feels like little pinpricks, slightly blunted and thicker than just needle-tips. He regains his voice quickly.

"What are you doing!"

He jerks backwards, after a second the resistance finally gives and Johnny nearly falls backwards with the effort. He stumbles and regains his balance, looking the boy over.

"I can stand... I can stand now." Johnny says, dumbly. He swallows, the muscles in his throat tensing visibly. For a few seconds it's like he can't get enough air in.

"Sorry."

He makes no attempt to regain their closeness from before, instead stepping back a respectable distance looking slightly humbled. Johnny can feel his heartbeat all the way in his throat. He sways slightly on his feet, unsteady.

"I- uhm, that's okay."

The smaller boy is backing away slowly, so much so that Johnny's eyes had not registered him moving right away. "I've gotta go now." He says.

He turns around and down the road, ducking into an alleyway between a set of apartments and Johnny is left alone again.

 

-ζ-

[Ready - Let's Go (Boards of Canada)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HHT7ICPdz5k)

It's dark in this part of the road, with no real lights except for the ones off in the distance casting faint shadows over the rest of the streets. Quiet and echoing, with the only sound being distant city noise and dripping pipes alongside the rows of buildings. It's still the early hours of the morning, 4am and most of the inhabitants of the apartments around him are still asleep.

Daniel scrunches his nose. There's a distinct sour odour emanating from one of the building's back dumpsters, left for too many days to rot in the hot sun. He looks to his immediate left, spotting another man outside and crouched down against the back wall of a restaurant. He approaches them slowly, and the person doesn't bother to lift their head until they see the tops of his shoes. Looking up now, Daniel slowly kneels down in front of him. He wants to make it quick. No talking, he doesn't want to have to hear his voice or look at his eyes.

It's a second that passes before his hand is on the man's forehead, quickly craning his head back, skull hitting the bricks behind him and a brief choking noise as the muscle is torn away and he tries to take in air with a gaping wound in the side of his throat. Daniel squeezes his eyes shut as the soft gurgling noise falls silent and is replaced by wet, hollow chewing.

The man's body slumps to the ground and Daniel slowly withdraws, looking up at the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love me some Boards of Canada. So creepy. 
> 
> If you can take a guess at what kind of alcoholic drink Jimmy has in this chapter, I'll give you an internet cookie.  
> Bonus points if you guess the drug Johnny has taken. And no, not ecstasy.
> 
> Fun fact: Forcella is the poorest, oldest and (I think) smallest neighborhood in Naples, home to the Camorra.  
> Some aspects of how bad it is there are going to be exaggerated to make the story more interesting (although, stuff like what I make up has happened in the past I'm sure). I'd avoid going there at any point. There's really no reason to be looking around if you do come over here.  
> I figured, if you are going to be killing people often, what better place to do it? I'm sure it was even worse in the late 80's.


	4. Giochiamo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> second meeting.

“And as the ax bites into the wood, be comforted in the fact that the ache in your heart and the confusion in your soul means that you are still alive, still human, and still open to the beauty of the world, even though you have done nothing to deserve it.”

_– Paul Harding_

 

Giochiamo 

  
  
"Scusi, uh… dove sono bevande?"  
  
"Sul retro."  
  
Johnny nods, looking toward the back of the store. "Grazie."  
  
He can see his own reflection in the glass, tired blue eyes scanning the shelves for something cold. The heat breaks at night but only enough to breathe. It's like a desert without the sand, hot days to warm nights.  
  
He hears the door chime behind him, the only other person out at this hour, he thinks.  
  
"Vendete tessuti?"  
  
"Laggiù."  
  
Johnny's ears perk up, he knows that sound. Slowly he turns and sees that familiar shaggy dark head. He knows that voice for sure. Hastily choosing a drink, he slowly steps up to the counter, lingering at a respectable distance beside him but still enough to look at him, nonchalant manner still not fully established. He watches as he takes whatever he has bought and left, stuffing it in his pocket and quickly leaving out the door. He didn't get much of a look at him but he was sure it was the same person.  
  
He doesn't bother to collect his change, much more intrigued now with what could be still lingering outside.  
  
"Uh, keep, keep."  
  
He pushes the leftover coins forward, already halfway to stepping out and the shopkeeper nods. "Grazie, ciao."  
  
"Ciao."  
  
He opens the door with some urgency, stepping into the sidewalk and looking in the mostly empty expanse of road for a little dark-haired figure. Upon hearing a small sniff from a few feet away, he's found him again.  
  
Stepping closer he can see him better, stains glaringly present on the front of his clothes while he wipes at his face.  
  
_Blood?_  
  
"The hell happened to you?"  
  
Judging by his slight jump, he didn't hear him approach. "Oh... it's you, is it?"  
  
"Are you alright?" He points to the front of his shirt and his nose, where he was busy cleaning up what was left. "What happened to you. Are you hurt?" Johnny slowly reaches out, as if to turn his head to the light to see.  
  
"No."  
  
"You have blood all over you-"  
  
"Yes, I _know_ _that_." His retort was more than slightly clipped, and Johnny immediately retracts his hand.  
  
"Sorry, I just..."  
  
"I had a bloody nose, that's all, alright?" He looks right at him again, like something is out of place. "What are you doing around here this late?"  
  
Johnny answers truthfully, shrugging. "I couldn't sleep."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"I could ask you the same thing."  
  
"And I could give the same answer."  
  
"I guess so, yeah." Johnny looks past him for a moment, down the mostly empty street. "Well, since we both can't sleep, would you like to walk with me a bit?"

He's certainly not expecting him to accept so readily, but he doesn't object in the slightest, only a barely noticeable shrug before he motions for him to follow as he walks with small, fluid steps down the road. Keeping pace beside him, Johnny watches as he tries to clean his face and chin, wiping at the stains that were seemingly a bit persistent.  
  
"That would probably work better if you wet that first."  
  
"I don't have any water."  
  
Johnny looks to the nearly forgotten bottle in his hands, the boy's eyes following his mental path.  
  
"No, I don't need to over overwhelmed by flying gnats or anything else with wings and a sweet tooth at this hour, so kindly forget that idea."  
  
He stops walking a moment and Johnny grins, outstretching his hand. "Give me one of those kleenex, okay? I'm not cleaning you with soda, I promise."  
  
A bit reluctantly the boy hands him a tissue, and Johnny quickly runs it along the outside of the bottle, condensation running in clear drops down the glass only within the few minutes it had been outside the fridge.  
  
"Let me," Johnny leans in, bending down a bit to see. He goes to wipe the now dampened tissue under his nose and around his mouth, but the boy dodges his touch.  
  
"I can do it."   
  
He is so close to his face that the boy can feel Johnny's brief exhalation of air. "Please just let me, I can see where you've missed, alright?"  
  
Johnny's smile returns as the boy stills again, letting him maneuver his face to the side with one hand while swiping at the reddish pigment around his chin and the thin line halfway down his throat. The slight dampness helps and within a minute or so, a wonderful, heart-quickening minute for Johnny, his skin is just as clear and perfect as he remembers it being the first time he was introduced to him. With some disappointment he realizes that the boy has no distinct smell to him this time, at least none that Johnny could catch while trying to be discreet about it.  
  
"It's so hot here, I don't know how you're in that." His eyes linger of the collar of his long-sleeved sweater, dark and down to his hands, the sleeves apparently a little long for his frame.  
  
"You get used to it." His voice is just as nice as he remembers.  
  
"There, no more blood."  
  
He traces his mouth and jaw with his fingertips, relieved at feeling no residual stickiness. "Thank-you."  
  
"It's no problem." Johnny stands up straight again, the boy looking upwards at his face with those big, black eyes; Johnny can see his own eyes in them if he looks hard enough. Despite his newfound alertness Johnny yawns, squeezing his eyes shut a moment.  
  
"Do you want to sit down a while? There's a park near here." The boy points down the road.   
  
Johnny nods. "Uh, sure."   
  
Johnny trails slightly behind him, letting the other lead the way through the slightly narrowed road until a flat space of grass and sparse trees is reached. A little ways away Johnny spots a climbing frame, looking as perfect an opportunity as ever. Flicking his head in the direction of the bars, he jogs up and climbs to the highest perch, sitting down and motioning for the boy to join him.  
  
"Come up, sit with me."  
  
He watches as the boy scales the metal bars easily with the same effortless, relaxed movements as Johnny's seen him use before. He moves with a sort of weightless finesse as if he's levitating at what he touches, never putting pressure on anything. He sits beside him, comfortably close and pulls something from his pocket that Johnny recognizes as playing cards.  
  
"You like card games?"  
  
"Yeah." Johnny stares at the cards; slightly smaller than normal French-style cards and with pictures, and no numbers. "I've never seen cards like that before," He examines one with a cup printed on its face. "What are these?"  
  
"Italian cards. Want me to teach you how to play a game? I'll teach you Briscola. It's simple, you'll like."  
  
Johnny nods and the boy places the cards face up while explaining the suits and their values, and Johnny tries his hardest not to be distracted by his voice or his face. He's just so... pretty. There's no other descriptor, maybe besides beautiful or intense, to accurately describe how he looks. Johnny likes that they're so close and is admittedly, a little embarrassed at his own flustered thoughts concerning a boy he pretty much just met. He didn't know what it was that made him so alluring.

Maybe it was the accent, or the strange way he'd speak sometimes, but Johnny decided that he liked this boy a lot. Maybe it was the eyes. Those dark eyes that are like little voids in his head. It was a bit strange he'd admit, certainly nothing Johnny had ever seen before in anyone else. Maybe it's because of what happened last time he'd encountered him. All that did happen, right?

"You understand?" He says. 

Johnny shrugs. "I think."  
  
"It's okay, I'll teach you more as we play."  
  
They sit for however long, Johnny doesn't count the minutes that turn to an hour and even more minutes, playing cards with Johnny mostly losing. The sky is starting to lighten on the horizon and the traffic from downtown is getting noisier, Johnny briefly looking to the city streets past the apartments and colourful buildings.  
  
"What time is it?"  
  
"It's late, early almost." The boy jumps down from the height, landing squarely on his feet before looking up again at Johnny's face, peering down from some twelve feet in the air. "I've gotta go now, but I will see you again, won't I?"  
  
"Yeah, you will." Punctuated with a promising smile, Johnny is satisfied to see the boy look down a moment before meeting his eyes again, this time revealing some teeth.

"When would I see you next?" 

"Well, when do you want to see me?"

He thinks a moment. "The night after tomorrow, right back here. You know the way from the store?"  
  
"I'll figure it out." Johnny briefly looks down to the stack of cards still left behind. "Wait a moment, your cards–"  
  
He shrugs him off. "Keep them... practice for next time we play. Maybe you win a game." Taking a few backward steps, he turns and walks down the road, Johnny only taking his eyes off him once he steps behind a row of buildings and out of sight.  
  
Johnny checks his watch; 4:57. He doesn't know if anyone's waiting up for him at home. He thinks of Jan, maybe worrying worse than his own mother and wondering why he's not yet home when it's nearly time to wake up again.

He carefully gathers the cards into his pocket, keeping one hand inside while he walks back and feeling their slightly worn edges. He wanted to try and impress him the next time he played, maybe he could learn a trick with them.

  
-ζ-

Outro song: [Billie Holiday - Blue Moon ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ntDnwBiORu8)  
  
  
By the time he steps in the door very, very quietly, Jan's already up and at the table, spreading jam on two slightly burnt pieces of toast, pink horizon coming up behind her in the windows of the kitchen.  
  
"Hi."  
  
"Hey... where've you been, it's late..." She checks the stovetop clock. "Erm, it's early."  
  
"Sorry, I lost track of time." Sitting down beside her, he eyes her plate of eggs, suddenly hungry. "There still some left?"  
  
"Yeah, but we're gonna have to go grocery shopping soon."  
  
"I'll go later today, if you'll go with me."  
  
She laughs, speaking in a little mumbled way between a bite of toast. "Sure, I should probably babysit you anyway cause apparently, you're prone to running off. Where were you tonight anyway? You left hours ago. We played Monopoly."  
  
"With a boy." Johnny sips some coffee, albeit a little hesitantly considering he hasn't slept since yesterday and should at least try.  
  
"Oh, now I know why it took you all night..."  
  
"I didn't mean it like that-"  
  
"Take you a while to woo someone in a language you don't know well, didn't it?"  
  
"I was not _woo-ing._ "  
  
She snorts. "So you failed and it still took all night?"  
  
"No... I wasn't trying to do anything, I just kinda ran into him and we talked." Johnny shrugs off her innuendo, nursing the coffee in his hands.

"Oh, well he must be something if you guys just talked all night. Is he pretty?" She's intrigued.

His smile gets even bigger, thinking back to those dark eyes and that innocent face. "Yeah, he's really pretty."

"What's his name?"  
  
Johnny frowns a little; he never asked, and now felt supremely silly about the truthful answer. "Um... I don't know."

"You _don't know?"_

He says nothing.  
  
"Are you serious?" She laughing at him, a little loudly for this hour. "You mean to tell me you were out with this boy all night and you don't know his name?" Her voice is full of that flat, snarky tone, the one that in Johnny's opinion, girls use far too much.  
  
Sheepishly, he mumbles his answer into his half-finished cup of coffee. "Yes, that's precisely what I'm saying."  
  
"Wow, you're a special one, alright. Maybe next time you spend all night talking, you can introduce yourself." She doesn't take her eyes off him yet, thoroughly entertained. "Congratulations, pretty boy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are you enjoying the story so far?


	5. Ghoghaye Setaregan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A closer look at Meena and Jan. 
> 
> Raffaele makes an appearance.

 "Sometimes I can feel my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I'm not living."  
  
—Jonathan Safran Foer, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close  
   
  
Ghoghaye Setaregan

  
In her periphery she can see her own reflection, her face and hair in his side view mirror. The moon is bright tonight; fat and slightly yellow hanging in the sky, drowning out all the nighttime stars. If she focuses on it long enough she can make out the large craters on the right side. She's always liked the way it looks from her window at night, like a little protector that's always there.  
  
"You have something for me?"  
  
"I just want my cut." She hands him the money, a small roll of twenty notes. "I should be taking at least forty percent, you know that?" She glares at the beaded strings that attach themselves to the crucifix hanging off his mirror, hanging partially in front of his windshield which sways whenever he drives too fast. There's that horn and the Nazar, she recognizes that one and its unsettling blue around the back dot that's meant to signify an eye. A protection from ill will, of sorts.  
  
"Don't get greedy."  
  
She bites her tongue for her own sake, watching him count it all. It's nearly two hundred, she had been busier than normal this week, and it had nearly paid off. It would have hypothetically, but it never really does anymore.  
  
"This is more than usual."  
  
"More people around this time of year... you know, all the tourist."  
  
"Medigans love cheap women, don't they?"  
  
He looks away from her, momentarily stashing the roll of bills away in the pocket of his jeans. She's no longer paying him much attention and is instead looking out the window to the street and watching for anyone who might be sneaking around a parked car like his.  
  
"It's been a while now hasn't it? Doing all this." Her eyes meet his but she doesn't move her head so he takes it upon himself to reach over and align her head to the side, his fingers on her chin. "You poor girl... no children, no husband. No man to come home to, is that right?"  
  
Her silence, instead of coming off as defiant, only makes her feel weak.  
  
"You're getting older, people might start to wonder..."  
  
His hand moves to a curl in her face that hangs below her jaw, fingers trailing to her mouth to softly trace her lips until she obediently opens her mouth, letting his finger slide until it touches her tongue, slowly moving her mouth along the digits, back and forth. Grabbing her hair gently by the mass of thick curls, he moves it out of her face enough for her to lean down across his lap, his grip remaining steady as she undoes his belt while his head goes to rest on the back of the seat.  
  
There's nothing around them but the night that swallows most of the streets, moonlight the only source of casting any shadows in the dark. He can't see well into the street behind them, although that's not where most of his attention is, only briefly catching glimpses as he leans back, eyes landing on the rear view mirror and into the empty road. In the distance he can see the windows to the apartments, if people left the lights on her can see inside, see if any other man is getting their cock sucked or screwing a woman against a window, Sometimes that happens late at night and if he's lucky enough to catch it, the men never tend to mind someone is looking in.  
  
He eyes flit up to the mirror again and the breath is nearly knocked out of him to see a distinctly human figure, standing some few feet away from the back of his car. He movies from his position and Meena nearly bumps her head on the steering wheel as he moves quickly to swivel around in his seat to get a better look at whoever the hell is there when they certainly shouldn't be, although whoever was there when he looked a few moments ago was now certainly gone.  
  
He clears his throat, "You need to go now, quickly."  
  
"No! I want my pay, you cheat me! Just give me my goddamn money." She brushes the hair from her face, annoyed now.  
  
"You need to leave."  
  
"No!"  
  
"Get out of the fucking car Meena! You think I'm kidding around here?"  
  
Her fists are still puny little thumps against his shoulder she tries to jostle him around a little in her anger. "Give me the money, you cheap bastard!"  
  
He dodges her blows, kicking the driver's side door open and stalking over to the passenger side. Quickly she tries to lock it before he has time to wrench it open but it's in vain, and he swings open the door so violently it nearly comes back and hits him.  
  
"Get out of my car, you fucking whore!"  
  
She's fighting him all the way, yelling and kicking him hard in the shins by the time he drags her out by the hair. Shoving her to the ground he kicks her once in the ribs, hitting her around the face until he lands a good punch to her eye, something to remember her little outburst. He's speaking but she can't understand much of what he's saying anymore, catching little bits of his usual fare that he throws her way whenever he's ordering her around.  
  
"Vaffanculo! Sei un'avido, inutile, fottuta maiala! You wanna be a big girl and fuck around like this? Huh!"

He leaves her there alone, but not before throwing a few notes her way and spitting on the ground where she's curled up, narrowly missing her face.  
  
Daniel bitterly waits in the dark, waits and waits for what feels like an hour until she's collected herself again enough to start her walk home. He follows behind her a few meters back very slowly, making sure to keep no discernible gap between the sound of her footsteps and his, trailing behind her all the way to her door and watches her close herself inside. After a few moments, he goes up to the door.  
  
He knocks distinctly, five firm raps on her door so she knows it's him. Two, then three.  
  
No answer.  
  
"Meena... it's me." He tries to be quiet, speaking clearly into the wood.  
  
No answer.  
  
"Please open the door, Meena."

He knocks again gently.

"Please... I want to talk to you."  
  
His weight shifts foot-to-foot uneasily. After a few seconds, he hears the deadbolt slide away and the door slowly opens.  
  
He keeps his initial reactions to a minimum. Her injuries are ugly in the light, noticeable even now and he can see where he's hit her around the mouth, swollen on the bottom half and there's a cut, maybe from a ring. Her right eye socket is red and discoloured, undoubtedly going to be a black eye in a few hours. He waits patiently on her front step.  
  
"Come in." She's so quiet and he thinks it sounds very unlike her. She backs up, allowing him in and quickly locks the door again once he sits on the edge of her bed. She leans on her dresser and Daniel watches her as she slices something in her hand.  
  
Extending her arm a moment, she offers him fig sliced lengthwise. With the red, pulpy inside exposed, Daniel's mind unwittingly goes to an incident he'd seen a while ago when a man from his apartment block had gotten hit by a fast car and his head had been cracked open from the impact. He grimaces, shaking his head but Meena still insists to be polite; it's not unusual to refuse food at first here.  
  
“Have some, they're very good this year. I just got them yesterday.”  
  
He stares at her a moment before she realizes.  
  
“Oh, right." She pauses. "Sorry, I forget sometime.”  
  
He shrugs it off. “It's not really something that your mind would jump to right away.”  
  
“Do you miss having to taste things?” To her, the idea is still unfathomable despite evidence being right under her nose. She's seen him eat a single piece of meat and vomit everything up afterwards like he's sick beyond words.  
  
“Sometimes I guess, but I forget how a lot of things taste.” It had been a very, very long time.  
  
“I know what it's like that. It's a drag when people can enjoy things like that, and you can just watch."  
  
Daniel sits on her bed, looking; at her, at her history books and her fashion magazines, at all the clothes in her small closet with the flimsy accordion door.  
  
“You have nice taste in shoes.” He remarks.  
  
“Thank you.” She picks up a red pair of heels, intricate embroidery and tiny glass beads sewn onto the shiny, satin fabric. They look delicate. “These are from Milan. They are one of a kind." She says this with a bit of pride. "They were a gift. Nice, are they?”  
  
Daniel nods. “They're very nice.”  
  
There's another pause, not tense like the last and Daniel just waits for her to break the silence. It didn't really matter all that much if they didn't end up touching the subject tonight. He knows her enough that she can't stand silence for too long. She'd say something.  
  
More silence, and she doesn't look like she's gonna give in. Perhaps she's not always a chatterbox.  
  
"So..." He begins.  
  
"So what?"  
  
He sighs a little. "What do you mean what? You know what."  
  
"Mmm?"  
  
"You could leave you know, surely you have some money saved up by now.”  
  
She glowers. “Yes, but he always takes, the bastard. I should have it, I should have money...”  
  
“Then stop him.”  
  
“Not that easy."  
  
He sighs. He almost gets frustrated with her sometimes. “It could be if you'd let me just-”  
  
"No!"  
  
“I could help you and you could go where you've always wanted away from here, from the whole city. You shouldn't be living here like this... you should be living with your family, you're not even married."  
  
She fixates on her hair in the mirror. "Don't remind me. Twenty-eight and without a husband, what a mess I am."  
  
"I didn't mean it like that... I just meant, they should be taking care of you. You've never even told me about them. Where are they, do you know?”  
  
She sighs. “Biyala."  
  
"Go visit them, you have some time, right?"  
  
"I have a feeling they don't want me back.”  
  
Daniel frowns, he could hardly imagine it. “Why not?"  
  
“Because I ran away from them for a good reason. I can't go back."  
  
"But-"  
  
"Sometimes you have to make decisions like that or else you won’t have very long to think about things anymore.”  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
She glances his way, holding eye contact a little longer than completely necessary. "You're very interested in my life, why?"  
  
Daniel doesn't really have a good reason, other than curiosity. "You've never told me before. Do you not want to tell me?"  
  
Meena takes a moment to finish off the fruit she sliced earlier, chewing slowly, swallowing. “What else is there to know? I had to leave quickly or else there's no other chance for me. I even leave my mother in that house with just her husband and my brother. I feel so badly, but I can't see her again now... she would be so ashamed of me.”  
  
“Why would she be ashamed? She could see the person you turned out to be, someone wonderful– ”  
  
“Right, in all my glory. I live selling my body... what a shame to have a daughter like me.” When he flinches a little at her tone, she reaches out to pet his hair with sympathetic affection. “You worry for nothing please, don't think about it.”  
  
His brows narrow. “You can leave you know, just tell me when."  
  
"I couldn't possibly-"  
  
"You need money? I have money. We could get all he's taken from you and get you back to your mother or wherever else you want. You could go anywhere, anyplace you'd want.”  
  
“I don't know if she's still in that house. It's been ten years maybe she is not even there anymore. Maybe they think I'm dead... better off like that.” She says that last part quietly, almost ashamed to say it at all, but it's the way she feels.  
  
He frowns. “No… why would you-”  
  
“What would I possibly do, then?”  
  
She's suddenly interested in a loose thread on her bed covers. Daniel swallows, suddenly a little tense.  
  
“We could write her." He says, gently. "If you remembered her address, we could send her a letter, tell her you're okay. That's all she'd want is to know. You could tell her why you left, and that you miss her.” She looks reluctant but he knows she's considering it. “You could try, at least. You owe yourself that much.”  
  
“My father will come to find me, then nothing good will happen to me.”  
  
“I can protect you.” Daniel looks at her for a moment, a little severe with his promise. “I wouldn't let anything ever happen to you.”  
  
"I know." Her eyes are distracted, a little far away. She's looking at the rapidly approaching sunset, creating streaks of oranges and yellows in the sky, and a soft, pink glow about the horizon, seeping steadily into the room. “You should go now, it's nearly your bedtime, isn't it?” Her voice is back to that delicate quality, a soft-spoken, gentle woman. "You still sleep?"  
  
"Of course I sleep, passes the time if nothing else." Daniel silently rises from his place on her bed, giving the pudgy grey cat by his feet a scratch behind the ears before opening her door and stepping outside.  
  
He looks at her again, over her face while he stands in her open doorway. "You should put ice on that, it'll help the swelling."  
  
She lowers her head a little touching her face self-consciously, stopping just short of her eye. "Okay."  
  
"I'll see you soon." He can tell she's already halfway to closing her door again.  
  
"You know where I'll be.”  
  
Stepping slowly aside he lets her slowly close her door, making sure he hears the lock click before he leaves her doorstep.  
  
 

-ζ-

A faint breeze of the morning creating a very slight chill that Johnny can feel from his open window, all the while birds chip a tad obnoxiously from outside as he blinks himself awake. His eyes protest a little, struggling to adapt to the morning noise of car horns and the dull orange glow from across the sea.  
  
The sudden ringing a mere foot from his head startles him badly and his brain is quick to jump into alertness. Reaching out, he leans across the bed and picks up the phone from the bedside table.  
  
"Hello?"  His voice sounds like he’s sick almost.  
  
"Ciao, bello." She laughs through her faux-accent and he blinks again, remembering his mistake.  
  
"Shit." He swears under his breath, turning his face away from the receiver for a moment. "Sorry, I completely forget."  
  
"No no, that's okay. Don't be sorry, I'm glad you're enjoying yourself. I was just calling to see how you'd been. Did I just wake you, is it too early? I'm sorry, it always kinda skips my mind."  
  
He looks to the clock still reading a relatively early hour. It's probably around 3pm where she is and if he was correct, she'd be thinking of what to prepare for dinner that night, maybe on her way to the store to pick up whatever Sid happened to want. "It's not that early, it's like, 7:30ish over here."  
  
"Oh, I'm so sorry! You sound tired, honey."  
  
Her smile is infectious, even through the phone. "A little bit I guess. It's alright, I need to start waking up a decent hour, Jan's been on my case about sleeping too much since we arrived here."  
  
"You been sleeping okay, then?"  
  
His mouth is agape a moment, unsure of what to say to that at first. "Uh, like usual I guess. It's always a bit of trouble falling asleep though... what have you been up to today?"  
  
"Not too much if I'm being honest. I'm wondering what to make for dinner tonight though, I was gonna make this little dish that Maria gave me the recipe for but I don't have shrimp around and I don't think you can make this with chicken..."  
  
Johnny yawns as she talks about dinner and her missing ingredients, feeling a little pang of homesickness. Normally she'd make him breakfast on Saturdays. Breakfast was the one thing she could cook pretty well given all her usual culinary hangups. She'd make him waffles with fruit or a colourful omelette with marble rye toast. She always made him breakfast on days like this where he'd be a little tired, that way she could coax him downstairs when he was still feeling lazy and wrapped up in his blankets.  
  
He does miss her.  
  
They talk for a while until his sleep inertia has lifted and he no longer feels the nagging tiredness that threatens to lull him back to sleep every morning, adequate hours of sleep apparently not a mitigating factor in mornings like this one. He's out of bed at least but due to the cord length, has only managed to dress out of his pyjamas and into clean underwear and socks, everything else much out of reach while still stuck to the proximity of the phone.  
  
"Are you nervous?"  
  
He shrugs. "Not really. I mean it's all been pretty good so far, that's the only reason he'd offer the bar night to us on a Friday anyway."  
  
"I told you! I knew you'd find more work there... there's probably not a lot of people doing the same thing as you. Here it's different, it's like a dime a dozen. I'm glad you guys finally got something."  
  
He laughs a little, "Yeah, so am I." He looks out the window, sunrise came and went and footsteps can be heard outside his door, Jan and Jimmy in the kitchen talking loud enough for any neighbours unfortunate enough to share a wall.  
  
"And I mean, even if you don't want to do this anymore after this year, you'll at least have the experience, you know?"  
  
"Yeah... listen I've gotta go now, but I'll call you later okay? You'll hear all about it all, I promise."  
  
"I better. Even if it's very late you can still call me, alright?"  
  
"Alright."  
  
"I'll talk to you later then... actually I guess maybe tomorrow technically, whatever time it is here by then. I love you."  
  
"Love you too, bye."  
  
"Bye-bye."  
  
He finishes dressing properly, not bothering to really make his bed before he locks his door. Stepping hastily out into the living room, he nearly knocks into Jimmy.  
  
"Oh, you're up."  
  
Johnny scoffs. "Yeah, I think everyone around us is up now."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jimmy follows him as he goes to the cupboard to grab a glass and then to the fridge intending on grabbing the carton of orange juice and pouring himself a healthy amount, however this idea is thwarted with only the evidence of someone -probably David- having drank the last of it and not bothering to throw it away.  
  
Or perhaps worse yet, leaving a stupidly small amount instead of just finishing it off. David was the worst for this; he would leave the smallest amount as to absolve any responsibility for actually finishing it, but never leave enough for another person to actually get any satisfaction from it.  
  
Johnny frowns at the too-light carton of juice and sighs.  
  
Jimmy leans against the counter, watching as he throws the carton in the trash with noticeable passion. "Yeah, Jan and I are going shopping 'cause I don't think we can really make food with what we have."  
  
"With what we don't have," Johnny stares at the empty shelves, some small vegetables in the crisper, what he suspects is a single egg in the carton, and condiments that should not be consumed by themselves. "I don't think our fridge can be described as having food."

 -ζ-

All the sights and smells are a bit weird for his taste, and the idea of picking out a live chicken for dinner that night was quickly handed off to Jimmy, who finds it interesting enough to not be immediately nauseating. However, Johnny is still without breakfast and he isn't about to pass up street food as long as it's not still alive; the sausage stand just outside seems promising. He manages to navigate himself into a less crowded section of the market and onto the street outside where he's greeted by the smell of cooking meat.  
  
He has little idea of how to properly order but manages to get himself a promising looking sausage with some kind of peppers. Standing aside from the entrance, he feels a slight tug on his shirt suddenly and turns his head to see a boy, all of maybe ten.  
  
He's confused. "Um, ciao."  
  
The boy starts a spiel, semi-aggressively which puts him off for a moment. "Um, I don't understand uh, non parlo Italiano." He gestures 'no' hoping he takes the hint. "Non parlo Italino."  
  
That deters nothing however and the boy speaks a few words of English, likely the only non-Italian words he knows from the sounds of his voice. "Money, you have? Want little money."  
  
At least he's honest about it. Johnny feels the slightest bit guilty standing here with a handful of food while this child is apparently having to beg on the streets, but has heard of this kind of thing and knows it's unwise to give these people money even once, or else they'll tend to bug you with increasing frequency.  
  
He thinks to ask how old he is but he cannot for the life of him remember the word for 'age'. He relents, pulling a 5000 lira note from his pocket and hands it to the boy, who looks much happier as he reaches for his hand.  
  
"Thank you!"  
  
"Yes," He faces the boy for a minute again gesturing with one hand, index finger up and close to the little boy's face. "One time, okay? You understand? Uno, uno."  
  
The boy nods but doesn't leave Johnny alone yet, instead choosing to wait around and sit beside him until Jimmy arrives again, a small bag in his hand that Johnny is slightly wary of given what he'd left him to do.  
  
Jimmy chuckles, as if reading his brain's steep misdirection. "Oh, no, not in here. They have to de-feather it and stuff."  
  
"Right." Johnny nods appreciatively; at least it's not just gonna be a lifeless corpse of the poor thing in a bag.  
  
"Who's your friend?" Jimmy looks to the short, dark-haired little boy that has apparently taken a liking to Johnny.  
  
Johnny's eyes go to the little boy again, aware of his own awkwardness as the boy shows off the money to Jimmy with gusto, much like a child who has gotten tooth fairy money for the first time; something that would be rather adorable if not for the pretenses.  
  
He waves a hand dismissively. "He asked me for money. I don't know why he's still here but I don't care enough to shoo him away." Jimmy looks at him a tad surprised as if to ask why he's speaking so blatantly around a person that can clearly hear them. "Besides, I'm guessing he couldn't understand a word even if I did tell him to get lost."  
  
The boy looks curiously at the two, eyes shifting between Jimmy's friendly expression and Johnny's apathetic one.  He gets up and paces a bit, looking around again before saying goodbye to both of them and disappearing again down the road, mingling with the rest of the semi-chaotic road traffic that was apparently shared with both people and whoever manages to drive their motorbikes and cars around the seemingly unbothered crowds. Jimmy recognizes the little vehicles as mopeds and not motorbikes, but doesn't bother to correct Johnny about it when he points them out.  
  
Johnny frowns slightly, taking in the busy city streets with some disdain. "How do people drive around here with all this? Goddamn people all over the roads and no lanes and everything is narrow as hell here unless its some kind of major road, I don't get it, I really don't."  
  
"We are on vacation, why are you complaining?"  
  
"I'm just observing."  
  
Jimmy shakes his head, the corner of his mouth curling up of its own accord. "Do as the Romans do I guess. We don't even have a car, so no use complaining about it." It's not so much condescending as it is playful. "Be thankful that we don't have to deal with Los Angeles traffic for three whole months."  
  
They head back inside, back to the awaiting Jan, back to the butcher with the goatee and the stained apron. Johnny starts going on about the freshly-dead chicken, now nervous that wherever is waiting by the counter will be a little too much.  
  
 

-ζ-

[(Set Song)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8n8t2ew0Xrs)

_"I know it's all a big masquerade,_  
_oh-oh, oh-oh!_  
_I know you're not afraid-"_  
  
Jimmy always got hot while playing. He figured all that moving, jumping around, the lively animated movements he often used on stage was to blame, but in the sweltering heat of this country, coupled with venues where the owners thought of AC as a luxury and not a necessity, it was particularly worse tonight. Maybe the exertion was in his voice, but it didn't seem to detract from the effectiveness at all. If anything, maybe the slight raspiness of his voice and breathy singing made it a little better this time around.  
  
_"You're just what I've been looking for, no other boy can love you more_  
_You're the only girl I adore... you're just what I've been looking for!"_  
  
He liked when people —especially pretty girls— smiled at him while he played. Being friends with someone like Johnny had left him few opportunities to be truly noticed, especially in the days of high school. However, college had brought new opportunities, new girls, new chances, and new confidence. He loved when girls would talk to him after a show, come up to him and do that little thing where they play with their hair and giggle a little too much. Singing for the band put him up front and centre and that helped a whole hell of a lot for getting people to notice you pretty much anywhere. The fact that he’s a foreign looking western boy in a sea full of men who look, arguably much of the same down here, is just a bonus.  
  
Green eyes are rare and even more over here, so a little wink goes a long way.  
  
He’s too caught up in his flirting to notice David giving him some disbelieving side eye; after all, you don’t just ignore a stunning girl standing right in front of you, looking at you like you're a wonder of the world. You better not, anyway.  
  
"Pay attention to the chords, Romeo."  
  
He shrugs David off in the most casual manner he can muster, not wanting to distract himself or lose the pleasant headspace he was feeling. He liked that about singing too, he liked that he could gain some confidence, regardless of whether or not it stuck around after his stage time.  
  
By the time they've played their set, Jimmy's t-shirt is clinging a little too close to his body for comfort, slightly worried that any girls who wished to get close might be put off. He excuses himself to the bathroom a moment, while the remaining three mill around the bar. Jan hangs back a little while David and Johnny mingle with bar patrons and the other band beginning to set up. She was much too hot to be inside at this particular minute and figures she could go unnoticed if she were to be outside for a minute or two.  
  
The slightly cool air of outside hits her like a brick wall. Within the past hour her body had become accustomed to the stuffy air of inside the club, making outside that much more welcoming. Taking a few deep breaths she runs her fingers through her hair, trying to untangle the loose knots from her curls without making it too frizzy. To the right side of her was a noise, like the clearing of someone's throat, then words.  
  
"Sei molto carina."  
  
When she turns around the person is looking at her with a friendly expression, although expectant of a reply. For a moment she lapses back into shyness, a perpetual habit around attractive men.  
  
"Scusi?" She manages.  
  
"Bella donna." He gestures to her, and she finds her self somewhat impressed by the rings on his hand, nice yellow gold bands, adorning both his pointer and ring fingers.  
  
Pretty woman? Is that what he said? She blushes, not yet used to the attention she got over here. Back in California, it was never like this. While she wasn't ignored by any means, she wasn't exactly having suitors lined up at her door either. She explains, or rather tries to explain, that she doesn't speak Italian that well but thanks him for the compliment anyway; although he probably already knew she was flattered by the way her face had gone red.  
  
"You here on a vacation?"  
  
She's relived by his English, something else he picks up on. "Oh yeah, I'm with a few friends."  
  
"I know," He points to the club doors, where she can see Johnny talking to David inside. "I saw you play, you're good. How long you've played drums for?"  
  
She was suddenly excited, getting an opportunity to talk about this with a complete stranger. Maybe he'd tell his friends about them, they could get more exposure...  
  
"Since I was twelve, but I got more serious about it when I was 16. After that, I met these guys in my senior year and we decided to form a band for fun but uh, we've been trying to get more exposure for a little while, so we came here."  
  
He nods, looking attentive to her every word. While she's still talking he reaches into her pocket, offering her a cigarette. One is already between his lips, but before he lights it, he makes sure to offer her one, ready to strike the match at her acceptance.  
  
"You smoke?"  
  
She thinks a second, before politely refusing. She could practically feel her brother's vehement disapproval and she was not about to break a promise to him while overseas; no drinking, no smoking. She watches the end of his cigarette in the rapidly growing dusk, glowing bright orange every time he brings it to his mouth, how he was polite enough to blow the smoke away from her. She could smell it in the air; it smelled like menthol, like coolness and mint chewing gum. She looks down at her wristwatch.  
  
"You need to go?"  
  
She shakes her head. "Oh no, I was just checking the time. I'm sure everyone is busy inside anyway, probably haven't realized I'm gone yet..." He chuckles the look that comes over her face, as if to say 'Oh yes, busy with the girls inside, right?'  
  
"What's your name?" He asks.  
  
She tucks a curl behind her ear. "Jan... what's your name?"  
  
"My name's Aridio".  
  
"Nice to meet you, Aridio." He grins at her when she stresses the right syllables.  
  
"Well Jan, do you wanna take a little drive with me? My car is just down the road and we can drive with the top down. You ever drive in a convertible before? It's so nice in the summertime, nothing else quite like it."   
  
"Yeah, I- I'd love to... I've never really rode in one." It's so nice out, she figures what the harm is, maybe. Might as well.  
  
When they get to his car, she's visibly impressed with it.  
  
"Wow..."  
  
"You like it?"  
  
"Yeah, a lot." She goes around to the hood, tracing the smooth paint. It's a dark colour like blueish-black and she can see the street lights above her in it's exterior that's probably been buffed to shine like that. she can see her own blurry reflection in its dark paint, seeing his figure approach as he comes up behind her. "I love old cars, this is... so cool." She's enamoured by it. It's nearly perfect.  
  
He chuckles, somewhat charmed by her fascination. His hand is on her shoulder, but she doesn't really mind. "You wanna see how fast it goes?"


End file.
